"Doctor," Clara said, as she sat reading a book. The Doctor's glasses were perched on the edge of her nose, whilst she raised and lowered them in and out of view.

"Yes?" he replied, from underneath the console.

"Why do you wear these glasses? The lenses are just glass, they don't make a difference,"

"Oh, yeah. I replaced the glass a few months ago. Everything went blurry otherwise,"

Clara turned around to face the Doctor.

"If everything was blurry, why wear them?" she asked, leaning on the console. The Doctor rolled himself out from underneath the console, granting Clara a wonderful view of the top of her head – definitely not a view she was used to.

"Well, why not? They make me look clever," the Doctor said with a proud air and his chin held high – though, not as high as it used to be.

"No, they don't," Clara replied, after a moment of hesitation. "They make you look like a Cbeebies presenter,"

The Doctor hummed quietly as he considered this.

"Well, they used to belong to…a friend," he said softly, suddenly fascinated by a flashing light on the TARDIS console.

"Is that a 'Mao Tse-Tung' kind of friend or an 'Elizabeth the First' kind of friend?"

"Neither. She-"

"Oh, it was a she! You sure it's not the second kind?" Clara inquired playfully, leaning over the Doctor with an impish grin plastered over her face.

In response, the Doctor seized up, instantly more awkward and clumsy.

"Oh, n- definitely not!" he stammered, with a shake to accompany it. "No, no, she, she…definitely wasn't that!"

"What, why? Was she your cousin?"

"No, my mother-in-law?"

"Wait, no, sorry, mother-in-law?"

"Yeah?"

"You were married?"

The Doctor seemed affronted at this, pulling a face at the remark.

"What, I can't get married,"

"Well, yeah, but, it's you! You act as if you're taking your SATs tomorrow!"

"Clara, I'm 1200 years old! Over 1200 years old!"

Clara paused for a few seconds to consider her answer.

"You wear your mother-in-law's reading glasses?"

"Yes! Well, she was…a bit more than that,"

"Your babysitter?"

"No, she…travelled with me for a bit. And her fiancée," he added, before Clara could comment further.

"Oh, my Mark One!"

"If you like," he finished, before striding over to the book now lying on the floor. "Oh, Black Orchid! Nice choice…decent story behind it too,"

"Hang on, you didn't just get it from Waterstone's?"

"Oh, no, there was a costume party, and a house, and a man from Brazil,"

"Brazil?"

"Where the nuts are from. Come on, I'll tell you all about it – I know a great place that does tea and scones,"

"What, Mesopotamia? Metebelis Three?" Clara answered, rattling off the names the moment she dragged them from her memory.

"No, Peckham. It opens at 8, let's get a move on," he finished, pulling the nearest lever.

"It's a time machine! We can wait for as long as we want!" Clara called, as he ran off.

"Yeah, but I'm parched!"

This was followed by a crash as the Doctor underestimated the stair height, and overestimated the length of his legs.

"Careful! That's my body you're bruising!"